


Blossomed Hope

by sunaddicted



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, MI6 Cafe Rare Pair Week, Multi, Non-Graphic Violence, Q and Vesper are Nerds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2016-07-17
Packaged: 2018-07-24 13:28:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7510147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunaddicted/pseuds/sunaddicted
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Are you okay?" she kept asking and no, Q was not okay - very far from it. But he lied smoothly at her with a smile, not trusting his voice not to betray him if he let it out his vocal chords "You could come to dinner: James has been telling me how he misses your takeaway nights here in Q-branch"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blossomed Hope

**Author's Note:**

> It's the last day of MI6-cafe Rare Pair week and I finally managed to finish this fic that was languishing forgotten in my mobile; it required quite some tweaking because I didn't like the original idea, which comprehended smut (but I might dish out a second chapter for the porn lol)

_Blossomed Hope_

 

Wasn't it sad, the consumed tale of star-crossed lovers bathing together in their blood? Fraying like an old cloak, burnt at the edges by the constant rubbing of greasy digits desperately clinging to its comforting... Normalcy. So abused by a romanticizing society, that it had somewhat grown stale and boring in its wonderful predictability.

Q laughed bitterly, carelessly cleaning the thick lenses of his glasses with the hem of his jumper, ignoring the weirdly worried glances his minions shot him from under their eyelashes. Such philosophical thoughts weren't the stuff that usually went around his synapses: numbers, equations, functions, statistics, diagrams, binary code and the secret languages of programming were the familiar ghosts that haunted his mind and kept him awake late into the night, when even the noises of the active city died down to nothing.

"Are you okay?" A melodious voice asked with concerned tone and Q ignored it in favor of staring at an algorithm he had already checked for mistakes already thousand of times: it swirled in his mind, senseless and repetitive like a creepily warped lullaby.

The bluish light of the computer screens was almost blinding after days spent in the darkness, curled around a shivering and wracked body that shouldn't even had to be more than dust deposited at the bottom of Canal Grande; he had done everything to keep it - she - alive and kicking, selflessly ignoring his own gaping and festering wounds in order to keep those limbs warm and functioning. All because of love - always because of Bond.

Q had caressed her matted curls, whispering comforting sweet nothings into her ears, telling her that James was coming for them even as he could feel consciousness slipping from the back of his mind; and he had come as predicted, icy-blue irises blazing with fury and something akin to pain as he madly searched for his Quartermaster, who had just disappeared to the spy's eyes as soon as he had seen Vesper - the Vesper Lynd - quivering in his weak arms.

He had wished to be left in that scalding hot cellar to writhe and burn like an ant under a cruel child's magnifying glass, once Bond had gathered her in his muscled embrace and washed the sooth from her cheeks with his tears, love making him look larger than life itself and as strong and unforgiving as an hurricane. But his wishes hadn't been heard and, instead of running away with his intended in his arms, 007 had spared some of his brilliant focus on him and saved him from the blazing inferno that prison was quickly becoming.

What was worse, Vesper had apparently taken a liking to him and Q liked her back: she was witty, clever, sarcastic and bloody funny - he would have wanted her as his best friend if she hadn't been the one holding his beloved's heart in her pale hands, turning him in a love-struck puppy ready to be ordered around by her saccharine smiles and arched eyebrows. Vesper sat with Q in his office and poured him tea from a teapot she had dug out from only-God-knew where, asking intelligent questions about whatever Q's was tinkering with at the moment and in exchange poured her soul out to him: she didn't wear red anymore - her sundress had been the color of freshly spilled blood the day she had supposedly drowned in Venice; she couldn't shake the lilting sound of his voice from her head and dreamed about him holding her safe and close to his bruised chest - shouldn't she have been thinking in those terms about Bond?; she liked the weird smell of a snowstorm approaching better than anything else in the world - who the hell enjoyed the stink of sogginess and smog entwined together?

She confided in him and Q retailed with passive aggression: he wore crimson cardigans that made him look even thinner and paler than he was just to savour the wince Vesper would produce; he deliberately modulated his voice to sound as impersonal as possible - and he was bloody good at it; he put on the most warm colognes to take her mind off snowy countries. It was petty and uselessly cruel: he actually liked her - it was Bond the one he should have been punishing for so mindlessly shattering his heart.

"Are you okay?" she kept asking and no, Q was not okay - very far from it. But he lied smoothly at her with a smile, not trusting his voice not to betray him if he let it out his vocal chords "You could come to dinner: James has been telling me how he misses your takeaway nights here in Q-branch"

It burned like acid the fact that Bond hadn't bothered to keep that stupid and private ritual to himself - worse, it corroded like fire the fact he would talk to her about missing him but not even deign himself to come down and say hi, like a normally functional adult would "No, thank you" he replied courteously, because his mother would have slapped him if he had done differently.

Vesper's smooth forehead furrowed deeply - resembling cracking porcelain - and her green eyes flashed with concern "I'm worried about you" she admitted "You're not healing.. Leaving it all behind"

"I'm not the one afraid of going around dressed in red" Q snapped cruelly, briefly glaring at her "I'm sorry, I was out of line" he sighed the apology and hid his face from her gaze, looking back at the monitor.

"You're right, though" she conceded and glided closer to him, managing to do so silently despite her heels, and sat on the edge of his desk "I'm afraid of some things buried in the past, but I try to forget them" she added, crossing her legs - a portrait of inborn elegance and grace that hit Q like a mace every time: how could he ever had hoped to hold a candle to her? Even if everyone had believed her dead, surely Bond had compared him to the ghost of his gorgeous lover and found him lacking.

Q's fingers trembled, hovering over the keys uncertainly, and the breath caught in his throat "Please, let me deal with trauma on my terms" he managed to get out, voice low but unwavering "I need to be alone"

"I know about you and James" she blurted out, cheeks flushing in embarrassment. When she saw Q's hands clench in what was clearly a mix of shame and anger, she carefully covered them with her own "He didn't tell me: I deduced it" she added, thumbing a caress on his whitening knuckles "Come to dinner"

Q slowly freed his hands from hers and closed the lid of his laptop, the dull sound resonating almost like a bad omen in the unusually quiet branch as he got up and started gathering paperwork and bits of equipment to bring in his office "I don't know what you exactly have in mind but I don't like it, Ms Lynd" he sentenced before turning his back on her and walking towards his office. He wasn't surprised to hear the soft clicking of her heels following him: the damn woman could be as stubborn and pigheaded as Bond - sadly, while Q knew quite well how to dealt with the latter, Vesper always managed to take the control away from him.

Vesper slid in the office and subtly locked it behind her back with a clever twist of her wrist "Is the room soundproofed?" she inquired, taking a seat in the plush chair behind the desk, completely ignoring Q's irritated huff as she got rid of her shoes and hugged her knees to her chest.

"Please, get comfortable" Q quipped sarcastically as he dropped the armful of paperwork on the desk and loomed over Vesper, eyes studying her in search of a sign - anything that would give him the upper hand. He found nothing: she was as blank as a winter sky barely shaded by a pale and cold dawn.

"You're always there, even if you're physically miles away: you're there in the way James sets the table for dinner and how he sits on the couch; you're there in the way I reach for someone's who's not there when I have a nightmare and how I curl smaller than necessary against James' chest; you're there when we kiss and it just feels wrong - lacking somehow" Vesper looked up, staring deep in Q's eyes even as she could feel her flush deepen and her heart start beating erratically: she had just thrown up her soul to the man who kind of liked and hated her at the same time - and Q's laugh rang so cruelly heartless.

Q slipped a hand in his curls as if he wanted to yank on them "I've heard many weird things, but that was a pretty creative way to proposition a threesome" he spat out amidst bitter chuckles "I don't need a pity fuck, Vesper"

"We love you" she whispered shyly, hiding her face behind the curtain of her dark hair; her insides already churned with rejection and Vesper didn't think she and James would ever last without filling the Q-shaped hole in their lives "I am the problem, am I not? Because you clearly still love James - no matter how much of a prick he's being"

Q turned his back on her, staring into nothingness as his mind curbed under the weight of the words Vesper had seen fit to unload on him. When he felt her arms wrap around his torso, hands splayed on his chest and stomach, drawing him close to her soft body, Q didn't move "Did you even talk with James or are you once again going behind his back?" he inquired, deliberately cruel.

Vesper dug her blunt nails in his sweater, almost kneading it like the cats she knew Q had: he had told her about his fluffy monsters when they were delirious with pain, fighting for their lives in a prison that was blistering hot; she hadn't forgotten their names or their funny habits and, stupidly, a part of her ached to see them and curl with Q on the couch, petting those cats that according to their owner were huge balls of floof "I know he loves the both of us" she murmured, burying her face between his shoulderblades and breathing in the subtle and spicy scent of his cologne.

"This is a bad idea" Q sighed. He couldn't exactly say that he was indifferent to Vesper - he liked her and he had grown attached to her, quietly gotten used to her silent and comforting presence - and he still loved Bond in a way that made his lungs ache and burn.

"Come to dinner" Vesper repeated for what seemed the hundredth time "No pressure, just spend some time with us" she added, hope brimming in her voice.

Q closed his eyes and gently disentangled himself from her warm embrace, freeing himself from those arms that felt so strangely familiar "Fine. Now, please, let me work" he asked her, needing to find solace in the numbing routine of his work: checking the firewalls for any loopholes, improving security, filling in paperwork, keeping an eye on ongoing missions - he needed to be just Q for a couple of hours, before he humiliated himself at dinner in the Bond's household.

"We'll wait for you" Vesper whispered gratefully, feet slipping back in her shoes "Don't bring anything: we'll buy the takeaway and rent a movie to watch" she told Q's back; despite his agreement to have dinner with them, Q seemed so cold and distant, wrapped up in his own personal tragedy. She left the office with her heart feeling heavier than when she had entered it, not so hopeful that she had gotten the entirety of her feelings through after all.

But Vesper knew she didn't have the luxury of time, to make sure Q did really understand her, and quickly escaped MI6; despite not being on their blacklist anymore - she was an informant in their databases, apparently - the building still felt like a stifling prison. And the feeling of suspicious and wondering eyes itching on her skin didn't leave Vesper until she stepped into the flat she shared with James.

"Already home?" James inquired, briefly raising his icy-blue irises from the novel entertaining him to smile at her, sweet and welcoming. He was gracefully draped over the couch, all coiled muscles and dormant strength basking in the calm of a late afternoon; his shoes had never been donned on that day and his bare feet were propped over the coffee table, next to a tumbler in which a sticky pool of drying liquor shone like amber under golden sunlight; his clothes were light and informal, creased by the laziness that attacked the agent during his downtime between missions.

Vesper didn't even toe off her shoes and let herself fall next to James, her hand wrapping around the glass to toss back the last dregs of the abandoned drink "Q is coming for dinner" she answered to James' puzzled gaze "And I told him... I told how we feel about him"

James closed his book, suddenly he didn't care much anymore about the story that had been captivating him for the last few days. Gently, he pried the glass from Vesper's hand and tugged her close to his chest, tucking her head under his chin as he started caressing her trembling back "I guess it was too much to hope you hadn't noticed about my feelings for him" he sighed, some self-loathing bleeding in his words: once again, with his selfishness, he was going to destroy one of the best things in his life.

Vesper tilted her head back, attempting to look up into her lover's face "I have feelings too.. For Q" she pointed out, shrinking in her shoulders.

"What do you expect from dinner, Vesper?" James inquired, trying to understand what she had envisioned.

"I don't know"

"You must know if you asked him" James kissed her temple, reassuring her even as his heart seemed to shrink more and more in the prison of his ribcage, tucked between his lungs, at the idea that he would never have both of his loves - and that meant he'd lose Vesper too, just like he had lost Q.

Vesper turned in James' embrace, facing him to better gauge what was going through his mind: the sadness she saw in the tired lines at the corner of his eyes was terribly familiar, an haunting spectre Vesper had seen in her own reflection since that tragic afternoon in Venice "Can't we just try to be happy, the three of us all together?"

"We can't exactly flaunt that kind of relationship in public" James reminded her; no matter how the times seemed to be changing and the new generations more open minded, polyamorous relationships weren't generally seen well and often completely misunderstood - it wasn't a safe world in which to be open about loving more than one person at the time "It wouldn't be fair for one of you two to be hidden in the shadows like a dark little secret"

Vesper's forehead darkened in a frown but, despite not liking what James had to say, she didn't shy away from his hands gently cradling her waist "I want for us all to be happy" she sentenced and huffed at herself when it came out rather childishly "We never cared about what people think, why start now?" she asked but didn't wait for his answer, instead cupped James' face in her hands and lightly kissed his mouth "We've given too much already to this world, we don't owe it anything. Please, just... Just let's see where the evening goes"

"Fine" James turned his head and kissed Vesper's soft palm: he had to admit, she was right - only, he had never quite abandoned the idea that he didn't deserve nice things in his life "I suppose you promised him takeaway?" he asked as he slid his lover on the couch cushion and he stood up, stretching his back before he finished dressing up and he went out to retrieve their dinner; he knew Q's tastes well, after all their unofficial dates in the twilight of Q-branch, hidden in the office while the night shift started to trickle in.

Vesper snuggled in the couch, her body leeching off the residual warmth left by James "A movie too" she added with a cheeky smile, looking up at him as innocently as possible.

James shrugged "There's Netflix for that" Or Q could illegally download a movie: it wasn't as if they had never done it before. Besides, James knew Q preferred TV series - something about having the proper time to get attached to the characters and understand them better. Vesper couldn't have known that because she had fallen in love with Q inside of a prison, when they were both broken and delirious and surely hadn't discussed the difference in character development between movies and TV shows - no, she never had the privilege to know a happy Q. Before going to the entrance hall to slip his shoes on, James cupped Vesper's face in his hands and kissed her - as loving and deep as if they weren't jagged broken pieces of an incomplete puzzle "I love you"

"Me too" Vesper whispered, keeping her eyes closed until she heard the gentle and hushed sound of the door closing behind James' back, clad in a sweater he had left hanging with the coats and jackets; no matter how many times she had told me that if he kept doing that his jumpers would be all stretched, James seemed unable to let go of the habit - and it made Vesper love him just that little bit more.

Her eyes opened again only half an hour later, when she realised she had dozed off on the couch as she listened to the soft murmuring of two familiar voices nearing the door; evidently, James had bumped in Q as he came back home with takeaway and they had walked together to the flat. The key turned in the lock and the door swung open to reveal the two men carrying bags of fragrant takeaway - Thai, judging from the mouthwatering scents - and heads bent together to whisper, breaths pouring in that small sliver of air separating their mouths "Took you long enough: I fell asleep" she piped up.

Q's eyes rose to look at her, incredulous and a bit spooked: Vesper didn't look.. familiar to that kind of setting, but she looked as if she belonged with her mussed hair and charming smile, patiently waiting for takeaway in a deliciously rumpled heap on the sofa "Apologies?" the inquiring tone was drowned by James' rumbling chuckle that vaguely reminded Q of a cat purring, pleased by getting a scratch.

"You were supposed to set the table" James reminded Vesper as he took the takeaway bags from Q and brought them to the table, letting Q have some space to sort himself out and take stock of the situation: despite not being a field agents, their minds worked quite similarly - plus, James knew Q would want a few seconds to harness his emotions and coach himself into not letting the warm and welcoming atmosphere sweep him off of his feet.

Vesper didn't move from the couch, curling herself tighter in a way that reminded Q of their imprisonment; he forced the unpleasant memory deep in the back of his mind, neatly packing with it the waves of anxiety and doubting that had been tormenting in since he had accepted the invitation to dinner "We can eat on the couch?" once again the words rolled out of his tongue in an interrogative tone, echoing the big question hammering his tired synapses: what was he doing there?

"Please?" Vesper asked, turning pleading eyes at James while patting the spot next to her - a wordless invitation to sit there that Q followed almost absentmindedly, realising what he had done only when Vesper snuggled her way under his arm to cuddle against his side.

It was quite different from the last time they had been so close - the first blatant difference being that they were safe and sound; Vesper was contentedly cosy, as if James' lingering gaze didn't make her tentative or anxious about what would happen later in the evening. Q's musings were interrupted by the agent letting out a fond sigh, before starting to dish various morsels from the different cartons in three plates, mixing them up differently in a way that Q was ready to bet would reflect their preferences about the dishes "Do you need help?"

James shook his head, smiling reassuringly at Q. While walking home together, a bit of the frosty atmosphere between them had melted, replaced by a familiar thrumming expectation "Commandeer the laptop and look for something to watch" he suggested, giving Q something to do to take his mind off whatever thoughts were swarming his overworking brain.

Soon, the flat was filled with the sounds.of Q's and Vesper's voices chatting over various shows and movies, while James brought plates and glasses over to the coffee table. He went back to the kitchen to retrieve something to drink and opted for a light and crisp white wine that, while it would help to dull a bit their nerves, it wasn't heavy enough to get them drunk - or even buzzed, considering the amount of food they were going to eat. If the evening was going to progress in something more sensual, James wanted them all to be lucid; he couldn't stand it if, the morning after, one of them blamed their actions on drunkenness.

"So, what are we watching?" James asked as he sat next to Q, balancing a plate on his lap.

"Batman v Superman! Finally I have a nerd on my side" Vesper grinned at James' groan and helped Q to swap the laptop with the remaining plates on the coffee table "I have every intention to drool over Henry Cavill" she stated.

James' face twisted in confusion: he had no idea who Vesper was talking about and, since Q hadn't come in his rescue, it meant they haven't watched any movies starring that actor before "Who?"

"Superman" Q added in explanation before stuffing his mouth with a bite of tandoori, eyes focused on the screen of the laptop "And I intend to drool over him and Ben Affleck too"

"Should I be jealous?" James enquired but it fell on deaf ears: the movie hadn't even begun and already his companions were tittering like excited teenagers and nerding over the characters, talking about the various cinematic renditions of the comics. It turned out that he should have felt jealous when every time either Batman or Superman appeared without a shirt, Q and Vesper started sighing dreamily.

Throughout the movie, Vesper and Q entwined even more closely together, evidently comfortable with each other. James wasn't ashamed to admit that he payed them more attention way more than to the movie, eyes quietly caressing their relaxed features cast in deep shadows by the low lights in the living room.

Feeling observed, Q looked up at James and smiled at him in a way the agent hadn't seen since retrieving Q from the prison, almost two months before. The younger man slowly extended an hand and coaxed James closer without dislodging Vesper, whose head was pillowed on his shoulder; it was tentative, Q somehow expecting to be rejected.

James threw an arm over the other's shoulders and drew both Q and Vesper closer to his side, one hand gently caressing the latter's shoulder as he leaned his temple against the former's and kissed his slightly stubbled cheek.

They finally all felt safe and happy, huddled together in front of the laptop - it was enough, more than they had ever dared to hope for, and utterly perfect. 

 

 


End file.
